1918 World Series and Curse of the Bambino
The Boston Red Sox captured the 1918 World Series championship, defeating the Chicago Cubs to claim what would become their last title for 86 years. That drought, eventually mythologized as the Curse of the Bambino, would define the franchise's identity and occupy the imagination of Boston sports fans for generations. The curse takes its name from Babe Ruth's nickname, "the Bambino," and traces its origins to the controversial sale of Ruth to the New York Yankees on December 26, 1919 — a transaction that many have argued set the Red Sox on a path of prolonged championship failure.[1]
The 1918 World Series
The 1918 World Series represented the apex of a remarkable early era for the Boston Red Sox. The team had been a dominant force in the young American League, and their 1918 championship over the Chicago Cubs secured their place among the sport's elite franchises. At the time, few could have anticipated that this championship would be remembered not only for the victory itself, but for the extraordinary drought that followed.
Ruth was a significant contributor to Boston's success during this period, functioning both as a formidable pitcher and as an emerging offensive force. His dual abilities made him among the most valuable players in the game, and his presence in Boston was central to the franchise's competitiveness in the mid-to-late 1910s. The 1918 championship was built on a foundation of pitching strength and disciplined play, qualities that characterized the Red Sox of that era.
The World Series victory positioned Boston as a legitimate baseball dynasty, having also won championships in 1916 and before that in earlier seasons of the twentieth century. The 1918 title, however, stands apart in Boston's historical memory because of what came immediately after: the dissolution of the roster, and most critically, the departure of Babe Ruth.[2]
The Sale of Babe Ruth
On December 26, 1919, the Boston Red Sox made the decision to sell Babe Ruth to the New York Yankees — a transaction that MLB.com has described as "controversial and eminently regrettable."[3] The sale came roughly one year after the 1918 World Series victory, and it marked a turning point not only for the Red Sox but for the entire landscape of professional baseball.
Ruth went on to become the defining figure of the New York Yankees' dynasty in the 1920s and beyond, helping transform that franchise into the most successful organization in baseball history. For Boston, the departure of Ruth meant the loss of a generational talent at the height of his powers. He had already demonstrated extraordinary ability as both a pitcher and hitter, and the Yankees immediately benefited from his transition to a full-time outfield and offensive role.
The financial motivations behind the sale have been discussed at length by baseball historians and journalists. The Red Sox's owner at the time, Harry Frazee, reportedly needed funds for other ventures, and Ruth's salary demands were viewed as a complication. Whatever the precise motivations, the consequences for the franchise were severe and long-lasting.
For Boston fans, the sale became the central grievance around which decades of heartbreak would be organized. Every near-miss, every late-season collapse, and every postseason defeat eventually came to be filtered through the memory of that December transaction.[4]
Origins and Lore of the Curse
The term "Curse of the Bambino" did not emerge immediately after Ruth's sale. The concept crystallized over decades, gaining cultural currency each time the Red Sox fell short of a championship in memorable or painful fashion. The curse is defined, at its core, as a superstitious sports curse derived from the 86-year championship drought of the Boston Red Sox in Major League Baseball.[5]
The phrase entered the broader sports lexicon through sportswriters who began connecting the Red Sox's misfortunes explicitly to the Ruth sale. One notable moment came after the Red Sox lost Game 7 of the 1986 World Series to the New York Mets. Sportswriter George Vecsey penned a column titled "Babe Ruth Curse Strikes Again," writing about the "ghosts and demons and curses of the past 68" years.[6] This framing helped cement the idea in the public consciousness that the Red Sox were not merely an unlucky franchise, but one operating under a specific, identifiable supernatural burden.
The curse became something of a communal narrative for the people of Boston — a way of making sense of repeated disappointments that might otherwise seem statistically improbable. The Red Sox had assembled strong rosters across various eras, yet each time a championship seemed within reach, something went wrong. The narrative of a curse offered an explanation, even if only a poetic one.
The 1986 World Series provided the most vivid single image associated with the curse: a ground ball slipping through first baseman Bill Buckner's legs in Game 6, allowing the Mets to score the winning run and extend the series. The Mets won Game 7, and the Red Sox were denied another championship. Sports media immediately referenced the curse in their coverage, further entrenching the concept in baseball culture.[7]
The Drought and Its Impact on Boston
For 86 years following the 1918 championship, the Red Sox did not win a World Series. That span encompassed multiple generations of Boston fans, each of whom inherited not only the team but the accumulated weight of its failures. The Boston Globe, reflecting on this period after the drought finally ended, noted that sometimes the "86 wait-till-next-years" felt as though they never happened — the curse rendered, in hindsight, "some cute bedtime story."[8] But during those decades, the drought was anything but a bedtime story.
The Red Sox came close on several occasions. In addition to the 1986 collapse, the team lost the 1946 World Series, the 1967 World Series, and the 1975 World Series, among other playoff failures. Each defeat added another chapter to the curse's lore. The SFGATE editorial board, writing during the 2004 season, noted plainly that the Red Sox's "real foe" was "the curse of the Bambino," and that "the Red Sox last won baseball's title in 1918."[9]
The psychological impact on the Boston fanbase was substantial. Supporting the Red Sox required a kind of faith that persisted despite evidence of institutional failure. Boston's relationship with the team, defined by deep local loyalty and an acute awareness of the city's sports history, made each October elimination particularly painful. The curse was not merely a media invention — it was a lens through which fans processed real emotional investment and real disappointment.
Attempts to Break the Curse
Over the decades, various symbolic and literal attempts were made to break or neutralize the curse. Some were ceremonial in nature, involving gestures toward the memory of Babe Ruth or efforts to reframe the historical narrative. Others were more practical — roster construction, managerial changes, and player development strategies aimed at finally delivering Boston a championship.
The broader baseball press frequently revisited the curse during the Red Sox's postseason runs, each time asking whether this might finally be the year. Each failure renewed the cycle. The idea of the curse became self-reinforcing: the more it was discussed, the more weight it carried, and the more any Red Sox failure could be attributed to its influence.
End of the Curse
The 86-year drought ended in 2004, when the Boston Red Sox won the World Series. The victory was especially dramatic given the circumstances: the Red Sox came back from a three-games-to-none deficit against the New York Yankees in the American League Championship Series, winning four consecutive games before advancing to defeat the St. Louis Cardinals in the World Series. The improbable nature of the comeback made it feel, to many in Boston, like an explicit rebuttal of the curse narrative.
The 2004 championship closed the chapter that had opened in 1918. Boston's long wait was over, and the city responded with celebrations that reflected the depth of the emotional investment fans had maintained across those 86 years. The curse, which had been discussed in newspaper columns, television broadcasts, books, and everyday conversation for decades, was declared finished.
Subsequent championships in 2007, 2013, and 2018 further distanced the franchise from the era of the drought, though the memory of the curse and the 1918 championship remains a central part of the Red Sox's historical identity.
Cultural Legacy
The Curse of the Bambino has outlasted the drought itself as a cultural artifact. It appeared in books, documentaries, films, and countless columns examining the intersection of sports, superstition, and civic identity. For Boston, the curse was never purely about baseball — it was about the city's relationship with its own mythology, and the way a sports franchise can become a vehicle for collective meaning-making.
The 1918 World Series, as the starting point of that 86-year story, occupies a unique position in Boston's sports history. It was a genuine triumph, the culmination of a great team's season, and it deserves recognition on those terms. But it is also the moment before the fall — the last championship before the sale that changed the franchise's trajectory. That duality gives 1918 its particular resonance in Boston sports culture: a year of glory that immediately preceded a long era of longing.
The Bambino himself, meanwhile, went on to become baseball's most celebrated figure in New York, his legacy cemented not in Boston but in the Bronx. The contrast between Ruth's career in New York and the fortunes of the team that let him go became, over time, the central irony of the curse and of Boston Red Sox history.[10]